Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy) (30 page)

The priestess faltered and the man chuckled in turn.

“He cannot offer much, but he wants to send what men he can to Tara,” continued Eiladyr.
“Once all preparations are made, he will send them.”

Shiovra
looked around at the face circling her.
She found Artis standing near the main cottage
with cup in hand
. When their eyes met, the man gave her a smile and nod.
She returned the nod and mouthed her thanks before turning her attention back to Eiladyr.

The man hesitated a moment and then asked, “If they had demanded it,
would
you have wed the son of Dún Fiáin’s chieftain that day?”

“Aye,” replied
Shiovra
. “Tara needs the alliance and I will do what is necessary to protect my people, even if it means wedding the enemy.”

“My father wanted to arrange a betrothal for me, as he had done for all my brothers, but I escaped it,” Eiladyr told her softly. “Odhrán is Milidh, right?”

She nodded. “Aye.”

“
He is proof that not all Milidh are heartless,” said Eiladyr. “He could have easily left me to wander lost, but instead he brought me here where I was given shelter, food, and time to learn the language.
I may not know him well,
but from what he has done, what I have seen, he has my trust
.” He paused a moment, voice dropping low.
“
I am a
stranger
to Éire just as Odhrán, yet you welcomed me as both companion and guardian. Could you not do the same for a man who protects you
with
his life?”

“Eiladyr!
”
interrupted Daire, approaching them with
a cup in hand. He slung his arm over the man’s shoulders. “This winter mead of Artis’…it is marvelous!”
Bringing his cup to his lips, he took a long swig.
“Come! Let us talk!”

Shiovra
watched
as the men walked away. Sitting down away from the fire, she looked up at
the night
sky.
Clouds had begun to drift acr
oss the sky, blotting out the stars and the scent of rain hung heavily in the air.

“It is a beautiful night.”

She glanced over as Meara came to stand beside her and lean against a tree with her arms crossed. “That it is,”
Shiovra
agreed with a smile. “The ni
ghts have begun to grow colder. Fall will be upon us soon.”

The wind picked up and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“And so shall rain
,” added Meara with a laugh.

Shiovra
couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“What are those fools up to now?” muttered Meara.

Shiovra
turned her attention to the two men standing near the bonfire.

Eiladyr was laughing while
Daire
scowled in obvious irritation and gave the man a shove.
Stumbling back, a wicked grin crossed Eiladyr’s lips and her pushed Daire back.

“We better stop them,” Meara said
as the shoving match between the men became more violent.

Shiovra
rose to her feet and began walking towards them, Meara following.

Daire shoved Eiladyr hard and the man stumbled back, catching himself before falling into the fire while his mead spilled all over. A bout of swearing fell from Eiladyr lips, but was quickly replaced by surprise.

Shiovra
saw it then, fire that
quickly
climbed the length of Eiladyr’s cloak
.

Meara rushed past
Shiovra
and grabbed a pitcher of water, quickly dousing the flames. Once she was sure the fire had been quenched, she turned to Daire. “
W
hat were you thinking?!”
she demanded, grabbing Daire by the tunic. Her gaze shifted to Eiladyr. “Both of you! Fools!”

Shiovra
hastened to Eiladyr’s side
and checked him over for burns.
She found
one on his arm as the man hissed in pain from her gentle touch.
“Come, let me tend to those.” Grabbing
him
by the arm, she led him towards the main cottage with only a short, hard glance at her cousin.
“To think that a guardian of fire
would get burned,” she said as they stepped into the empty cottage.

Eiladyr gave a small laugh
.

Picking
up a basin of water and piece of cloth,
Shiovra
gestured for Eiladyr to sit on a bench
. Searching through
some dried herbs laying upon the table
, s
he found some suitable once for a healing ointment
.
Glancing around, she found no mortar or pestle, so she made due with
a bowl
and small clay cup
,
crushing the herbs together the best she could.
Shiovra
added small amounts of water at a time until
a
fairly
thick paste
formed before returning to Eiladyr and sitting beside him
.

Unclasping his ruined cloak, she let it fall to the ground before skimming her eyes over his tunic. The lower edge was singed and, wanting to be sure the skin below remained unharmed, she lifted the hem and searched for wounds. Finding none, she turned to his left arm. Minor burns reddened the skin from his elbow down the back of his arm, stopping just above the wrist. Dipping
the p
iece of cloth into the water, she
began
to carefully clean the burn, pausing several times to allow the coolness of the water to sooth the skin
. She felt Eiladyr flinch
each time the slightest pressure was applied on the burn
. After she was satisfied that the burn was clean, she dipped her fingers
into the ointment and generously coated it with a thick layer
.

“Is this helping?” she asked
without looking up.

“Aye,” replied Eiladyr.

“Is there anywhere else that you were burned?”
Shiovra
pressed further.
She did not want a single wound left untended.

Eiladyr shook his head.

Standing, she looked around and found a small bundle of bandages. “I am not going to bind these tightly, but the help the burn heal, I would need to bind it so that ointment does not rub off,” she informed him, grabbing his arm and winding the bandages around it. “I want to check these in the morning to see how they are healing. If the pain gets worse, I want you to let me know.”

“Aye
…” he murmured.

Looking down at the man, she noted that he stared down at his hands.
She could not see his face clearly enough to know if he was in pain, angry, or simply contemplative.
Regardless, she felt partially at fault for the actions of her kin.
“Please forgive my cousin,”
Shiovra
began
. “He can be a fool at times…especially when mead is involved.”

Eiladyr looked up and
met her gaze.
“
I was a fool, also,
”
he admitted
with a sheepish grin
. “I was trying to rile him up…it just worked a little too well.”

Frowning, she crossed her arms.
“Odhrán already does that enough, you do not need to help,” she scolded.

The man was
thoughtful
a moment,
then his grin spread mischievously
, “But it is
especially
entertaining.”

Shiovra
glared at him
a moment longer, sighed in defeat, and
began clea
ning up everything she had used. Something told her the man could rationalize anything she might say and it was one argument she was to weary to begin. When she finished, she found Eiladyr standing by the door stretching.

“I wonder if
Artis will share more of his winter mead?” he
asked, partially in thought
.

“
I do not care if you drink more mead, just k
eep cl
ear all fires for the rest of the night,
”
Shiovra
ordered as she followed Eiladyr out the door.

“I had a talking to with Daire,” Meara said from her right.

Shiovra
nodded. “Thank you,”
she replied, falling silent. As she stood there, watching the dying festivities, she felt a cool wet drop of rain touch her cheek. It was followed by another and another.

Softly, rain began to fall, pattering down through the trees. Thunder rumbled lightly and the wind carried a heavy earthy scent.

Closing her eyes,
Shiovra
took a deep breath, savoring the freshness in the air and the feeling of raindrops licking at her skin. Opening her eyes, she watched as some of the villagers retreated beneath the trees and into cottage doorways while others remained in the rain.

“The scent of rain has always been my favorite,” Meara said suddenly.

Shiovra
glanced over at the Neimidh woman, the feeling of gathering power hanging heavily in the air.

Meara held a hand up, watching rain glide down her hand. Leaning her head to the side, the movement of the water began to slow
ly gather in her palm
.
Before long it formed a small sphere that shifted and rolled, but did not fall or break. Turning her hand over, the sphere remained
in place for a moment then slowly began to stretch down, forming a large raindrop that splashed to the ground.

“Hail to the chosen guardian warrior of the west, by the power of air, I greet thee,”
Shiovra
said softly.

The Neimidh woman turned to her and smiled. “Aye.”
She was silent a moment, leaving only the soft murmur of the villagers and patter of steady rainfall. When the priestess stifled a yawn, Meara suggested, “It has been a long day, you should rest. I will keep watch over the childish fools.”

Bidding Meara a good night,
Shiovra
excused herself and began making her way through
the village. The rain began to fall heavier as she made her way towards the back of the village.
Ducking into the cottage,
she found Odhrán sitting
near the hearth
.
In the flickering firelight, she could see that his eyes were closed as he sat leaning against a support
post with one arm propped up on his knee.

Shiovra
paused a moment, looking down at the Milidh man before dropping down to her knees beside the fire to warm her damp clothing. After several side glances at Odhrán
, she crawled towards
him as he rested
. The priestess
decided
that she was not nearly as frightened of him while he slumbered
. Hesitating, she reached a hand up to touch his face and trace
his jaw line. She nearly jerked back when her fingers rolled quietly, as if by their own mind, over his soft, firm lips. She remembered clearly how he had stolen a taste of her lips merely to silence her.
It was a feeling that continued to linger in her thoughts.

She knew
she should trust him if he was to continue remaining at her side, but she continued to find that she was torn between the man he was proving himself to be and the past she had suffered due to the clan he came from
.
Shiovra
’s fingers continued to linger on Odhrán’s lips for a moment longer.
Just as she was about the draw her hand away, another closed around it, not painfully, onl
y firm. She started, snapping her gaze up to meet brown tinged eyes. Trying to pull her hand free, she found she was unable to
due to the hold he had on her wrist.

Odhrán said nothing, only brought her hand back to his lips and kissed the skin.

Shiovra
gasped softly and his mouth trailed up the said of her hand, across her fingers and onto the palm. Her gaze followed each path he took, her body unable to respond
save for the steady
incr
ease
of her heartbeat
. She knew she should pull away, but part of her did not want to.

Abruptly he tugged her hand, knocking her off balance and pulling her towards him.

Before
she had a chance to react, she was in his arms and his mouth was upon hers.
Shiovra
did not fight
his
kiss,
did not try and push him away as his breath mingled with her own. Warmth flooded her body,
prickling at her skin
, as she knelt straddling his legs
. She felt his other hand slide into her hair, pulling her closer.
Her heart pounded loudly, the beat deafening in her ears. For a moment, she was frozen, her mind a jumble of thoughts and questions.
Regaining control of her body,
Shiovra
brought her hands up to his chest and pushed away quickly.